Inside the Mind of Isadora


Friday Fictioneers – Hell or Opportunity

Stoic, Carmen sat in the back of the taxicab.

She scrutinized farms and gated mansions they passed.

Her parents told her she was going to the small town where her mother was raised.

But, this was her senior year.

How could they?


No answers.

Irrational gibberish about going back to her roots; her roots not mine.

“You’ll attend the Benedictine Catholic Academy: Nuestra Señora de la Valvanera.”

“Your great aunt will care for you.”

Carmen wept uncontrollable. The trauma was tearing her apart.

“How dare you question this opportunity,” her mother sneered.

“But, why?”

“Because, we know what’s best.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Hardy Carroll

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above


Friday Fictioneers – Bubba’s Gone Too Far


“Maw,” Becky Sue whined, tears streaming down her face.

“Child, look what you’ve done,” Momma said pointing to the floor.
“Ya’ll dragged muddy dirt in. I’m near ‘bout to lose my mind with all the work that’s gotta be done ‘round here.”

“But, Maw, come see. Bubba’s done a real bad thing,” Becky Sue bawled.
“Please Maw, please come see.”

“Fine! I suppose it’s gotta be important.”

“Look,” Becky Sue pointed.

“Lordy that child’s done gone too far this time. Drinkin’, smokin’ and breakin’ your favorite dolly.”
“Go find me a switch, Becky Sue. Someone ‘round here needs some learnin’.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
Photo:©Liz Young

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above


Friday Fictioneers – Forever All Alone


Darkness covers me, like a blanket
Shadows, surround my thoughts
My arms wrap tightly round me
Deserted, no ones home
You keep me isolated
My only friend, just you
Smiles ne’er intrude our space
With you, I’m safe and whole
The thorns of my emotions
Keep rising from deep inside
Always in your shadows
Always in your arms
I cannot see the rose
Only thorns of pain
Madness all around me
Keeps me huddled tight
Tomorrow, won’t be different
It will always be the same
Fear keeps me shaking
My spirits tattered, worn
Darkness gives me comfort
Forever, all alone
2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Poetry
Word Count: 100


To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above

***** photo prompt© Ted Strutz


Friday Fictioneers – Trapped


Before dawn, Paw fed the horses, pigs and chickens.

It had snowed all night. It was going to be a rough day for setting traps.

Fresh eggs and ham were ready when I got up.

“A good breakfast will get you through the day,” Maw said.

We took the North end of the farm. Maw took the South end with Bubba.

Beaver skins helped make us money in winter.

No sign of Maw when we got home. Paw and I went out to find her.

She was slumped in the snow.

Bubba cried out, “Paw, Help”!

“Maw caught her foot”.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt: ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
to join in click here



In Need of Humor? – Thanksgiving Groaners


turkey-xtgoqkzbcWhat happened when the turkey got into a fight?
He got the stuffing knocked out of him.

Why did they let the turkey join the band?
Because he had the drumsticks

What do you get when you cross a turkey with an octopus?
More than enough drumsticks for Thanksgiving


What did the mother turkey say to her disobedient children?
“If your father could see you now, he’d turn over in his gravy.”

What sound does a space turkey make?
Hubble, Hubble, Hubble.

Why did the turkey cross the road?
It was the chicken’s day off.

What do you get when you cross a turkey with a banjo?
A turkey that can pluck itself.


Why did the police arrest the turkey?
They suspected it of fowl play

What holiday do they celebrate in prison?

What did the turkey say to the computer?
Google, google, google.

Who is not hungry at Thanksgiving?
The turkey because he’s already stuffed.

What do you get if you divide the circumference of a pumpkin by its diameter?
Pumpkin pi.

What do you call a stuffed animal?
You after Thanksgiving.


If I was a turkey, I’d be doing everything I could to taste terrible right now.

Hope these gave you a chuckle
in between your hectic preparations for Thanksgiving.

Blessings to all …



Google Images

Dreamtime Images


Friday Fictioneers – A New Penny Candy Store

friday-fictioneers-11416-jean-l-hays“Mama, why we leavin’?”

“There’s no water, son. The crops are dead. There’s barely any wood for the coming winter.”

“What about Paw?” I’m gonna miss talkin’ to um.”

“He’ll be with ya, son, in your heart.”

“Will we find another fillin’ station with penny candy and biscuits for Rusty?”

“I suppose we can find one like Ol’ Man Billies.”

“Now, grab Rusty and get in the car.”

“We’re going down Route 66, Rusty. Gonna find a new penny candy store and biscuits.”

“I’m gonna miss sitting under the oak with ya Paw”.

“I’ll come see ya soon. I promise.”

2016©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words

To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers

click here or the froggy button above

*****Photo Prompt©Jean L. Hays


Friday Fictioneers – He Rocked


“Look, I’ve a magical wand,” Willie said.
“No, you don’t. It’s a piece of rope”.

He always found odd objects to store in those cubicles dad made for him.


Mom rocked in her chair and stared; disconnected. It all started when she was told Willie was retarded.

She screamed, “No. You’re wrong.”

They weren’t.

He was.

She was angry. She took him out of school.


He listened to music all day. Rocked his head, side to side, on his bed listening to his portable radio.

She told him he was special.

At 14, he raped her; unaware, she was his mother.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 102 words

 Rochelle hosts the Friday Fictioneers challenge
click here or the froggy button above

*****Photo Promp© Claire Fuller


Nostalgia – Ride in the Family Chevrolet

The Weekly Photo Challenge this week is ‘Nostalgia‘.  Click on the title ‘Coca-Cola Nostalgia’ to see my choice.

This story came to mind when I first saw the challenge word.

I thought I’d add it here.

Enjoy …. 😎
Chevrolet Impala A side.web Do you see the back seat in this Chevy Impala?

Do you think this was my seat in the car?

No, it was not.

My older sister sat in that seat right behind my mother.

My younger sister sat in the middle.

My 2 year old brother sat on my mothers lap.

Yes, you read that correctly.

It was way, way before car seats for children were mandatory.

If there’d been an accident, his face would’ve been mashed potatoes. The dashboard on the old cars were as hard as a wall.

chevrolet-red-dashboard-webI was on the other side of the back seat right behind my father.

There was no air conditioning. The wide windows were rolled down the minute we got in the car.
For me, the Sunday after church outings were always ‘The ride from hell’.

My fathers was a chain smoker. He smoked the best ones from that era. You know ‘Camels’, the unfiltered cigarettes.

They were very short which meant he’d light another cigarette as soon he was finished inhaling the first one.

I had the pleasure of inhaling nicotine and carcinogen chemicals on every car ride.

As the wind blew into the car, along came the smoke and ashes right at me.

Chevrolet Impala A-rear wings.web

The stench and ashes in my face were disgusting.

Have you ever tasted burnt ashes??
I did. It was repulsive.

I was always car sick.

There were many times he had to stop the car so I could vomit. It wasn’t pretty.

Everyone would mock me for my delicate system and for spoiling everyones enjoyment of their Sunday drive.

We lived in a Brownstone which meant no garage.

In the summer, the seats were always scorching hot. There wasn’t a summer day I didn’t burn my skinny legs on those seat.

Eventually, after a lot of complaining, my mother decided to take a towel and lay it on the seat for us just before we’d leave.

Chevrolet Impala-front.web

When we’d arrive at our destination, whether a park, the beach or one of their friends homes,

I’d have to sit until the dizzy feeling would pass.

Seltzer was the beverage I had to drink to settle my stomach while the others drank cokes.

I think about the fact that I do have those Sunday drives as a memory.
But, I just wish it could have been more fun for me.

Incidentally, I’ve never smoked because of those experiences.
Something good did come out of those Sunday rides, after all.
2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Chrevrolet AA word.web


A Cops Wife Lament


The news flashed the words ‘Five Officer Killed and Seven Hospitalized.’ A shot to my stomach that took my breath away was my first response. This was happening in Dallas, Texas USA. But, it could’ve been happening in any town where I live or throughout the states.

Why was my response so intense?

Because it’s the news that no family member of a police officer wants to hear. Whether you’re the wife, the mother, the father or a close relative; these words are the last thing you want to hear. They’re the words you live with every day. You repeat them over and over in your mind. They’re the words you repeat to yourself in hopes that when the knock comes to your door you’re prepared to hear them. You never are.

How does this happen?

I’m sure when those officers left for work that morning the last thing on their minds was that they wouldn’t return home that night. This is an unbearable tragedy for all of the families of the fallen officers to have to live with for the rest of their lives. The shooter was killed with a bomb sent into the location with a robot. But, the memory of the incident will live on in the minds of the families stricken that day.


As the wife of a man who wore his NYPD Blue uniform proudly, these are the things we have to endure daily. When your husband, father of your children, walks out the door you never know if he’ll return home safe and whole.

Why do they do it?

They hope that they’re the ones who are going to clean up the mess that’s on the streets. Growing up in the ghetto streets of one Brooklyn neighborhood, my husband was exposed to daily police visits. Domestic violence, burglaries, thefts, carjackings and murder were all part of what he saw as a child and teen.
He viewed the police officers, who came to keep peace in his neighborhood, as the cowboys with the white hats. He thought they were the ones who kept his neighborhood safe. He wanted to do that when he grew up too.

When he was accepted into the department; he never worked in good neighborhoods. He worked in places called Fort Apache or Brooklyn South. He worked undercover and with subversive organizations trying to infiltrate among them to gather information that might help clean up the miscreants that endangered innocent people trying to live decent lives in neighborhoods just like his. He earned his Medal of Valor, his Awards of Merits and far too many commendations to list. But, all with a price attached.


I recall the day I had the knock on my door. The one I thought I was prepared for. I was not. The uniformed police sergeant and his partner stood at my door like bronze figures. No words were needed to be said. I knew. I heard nothing. Their mouths moved but my ears heard nothing.

They said I was supposed to go with them.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I had 3 small children, all under 10 years old, and no one to care for them.

My heart was torn apart. I couldn’t think. They handed me the information and left.
I wanted to curl up in a ball and never open my eyes.

I did.

Then, my daughters were all crying and it brought me back to reality. I had to be strong. I had to make decisions. I had to stop thinking about how I felt and get on with the things I had to do.


I had just moved to this neighborhood. It was 1 ½ hours away from the hospital where my husband had been taken.

When we’d found the house we wanted, I had concerns about how far it was from his precinct. He’d assured me that the drive wouldn’t be a bother. He had convinced me that it was the best thing for our family. He said, “You’ll be far away from all the bad guys I capture.” They usually harm the families. You’ll be safe. It would be a big adjustment but it made sense. After all, he was a warrior when he was out on the street. He would and did make lots of enemies.


Both of our families were in Brooklyn or out of state.

I had made a new friend when my middle daughter started kindergarten. She was the only person I could think of to call.

It was midnight but I was desperate.

I called.

She came over immediately to take care of my children.

I left.


My life changed from that day forward. My husband was in a wheel chair. I was no longer just taking care of children. There was an adult who needed me too.

There were doctor appointments, physical therapy and lots and lots of medications to pick-up and monitor.

He was told he’d never walk again. The bullet was never removed. It was too dangerous to be removed surgically because of where it was. It was left where it was with the possibility that it could move and travel to places it shouldn’t go. They would be scrutinizing its location to monitor where it was traveling. It was a grim diagnosis to hear.

But, I was married to the man with the white hat. The hero in the story. They always end up on the right side of life and the law.

He was going to prove their diagnosis wrong.

He was going to walk and be whole again.

And, he did.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega

Sky grey clouds-saying.web


Never Deprive Children



My grandson graduated from Kindergarten last weekend. Sitting in the audience were his mother, father, step-mother and step-sister. They watched proudly and peacefully together as one unit. No, they aren’t the normal family. The normal family of mother, father and siblings has morphed drastically over the years.

As parents to this sweet little boy, they knew this was a special day for him. His mother and father wanted to show their pride and support for his accomplishment. Their number one priority was their son.


Nicole & Jeffrey

They wanted him to feel he’s loved equally by both. They show respect to the other parent. They communicate with each other and don’t use their son as a pawn. It’s difficult. But, when you put your child first your feelings just don’t seem that important. When you see a big smile on a child’s face that say, “I am loved.” There’s no need to say anything else.

IMG_2834Nicole, Jeffrey and Father *****


Divorce or separation is an emotionally exhausting experience. Two people who met, fell madly in love and vowed they would be together forever are now enemies. Divorce and separation pits two people against each other. It’s as if a letter arrived in the mail saying, “Time to get out of here and fast before the bombs arrive.”

No one can answer the question, “Why?”

It happens. The two people involved are the only ones who know.

But, what about the children?

They are the silent victims. They can’t speak their minds.  Or, can they? In this video this a six year old little girl gives her mom a wake up call as she is saying a great deal.


Divorce and separation is an adult issue. Don’t deprive your child or children of the love of the other parent because of issues you have with them. They will always hold you responsible for their loss of love.

2016©Isadora DeLaVega


Daily Post – Deprive
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***** Although no longer together, they manage to keep their personal feelings aside as shown in the 3rd. photo.